A Little Trouble
by Jael K
Summary: In a universe where the Legends returned to their earlier lives after Savage's defeat, Sara Lance is bored out of her mind. And then a certain crook turns up...
1. Chapter 1

This, no joke, started with a dream. Set in an AU in which no one died at the Oculus, Miranda and Jonas lived, and Rip promised to return for the Legends-and hasn't, yet.

Happy birthday to the world's best beta reader, LarielRomeniel!

* * *

It's hard for Sara not to think about what-ifs, these days.

What if Rip never comes back to 2016, never fulfills his promise to recruit the Legends as his first new batch of Time Masters? After they'd defeated Savage and rescued Miranda and Jonas, he'd vowed to do so as soon as his wife and son were settled in somewhere safe, given them all a cheery (Rip! Actually cheery!) wave before boarding the Waverider and departing.

But it's been more than two months and there's been no word, no sign. The Legends have dispersed, back to their separate homes and possibly beyond, and while she gets a text from Jax or Ray now and again, it's easy to see how they're all drifting apart, how one "lost assassin" could so easily be forgotten. Stuck here, with an ex who's busy being mayoral, friends who still have a calling, and a father who sees her sister every time he looks at her.

She'd thought L...some of them might, at least, have understood.

Sara gives the bar one more wipe with the cloth, then sighs and leans back against the register, closing her eyes. The bar is quiet now, far too early for even the regulars. It's better when things are busy; she doesn't think as much, doesn't wonder, doesn't have to talk herself down from going to visit her former teammates and...

"So...what's on tap?"

At the very first sound of that oh-so-familiar drawl, her eyes fly open, darting to the end of the bar and the tall man slouching on a bar stool. She hadn't even heard him come in, let alone take a seat, and in other circumstances, she'd start to get a little worried about how her skills are waning.

Instead, she just feels an odd sensation pulling at the corners of her mouth. It takes a second to realize what it is.

She's smiling.

"You better not be planning to rob us, Crook," she tells him casually, crossing to where he's lounging and leaning onto the bar surface next to him. "I happen to know you don't want to mess with the bartender. She'll kick your ass."

"Wouldn't think of it," he says smoothly, tilting his head. "Got a friend who works here. I think."

A friend. And damned if he's not smiling too. A real smile, and not that irritating Snart smirk.

It looks good on him.

Best not to let that show on her face; she locks it down ruthlessly and sits on it. Whatever had driven him to drop that "me and you" on her at the Vanishing Point, he'd never stolen his kiss, had walked away from her after Savage's defeat without...well, there had been a backward glance, a long and intense one. But he hadn't said anything, and neither had she, and now it's two months later.

She'd nearly kissed him, at the Oculus, in those terrifying moments between the time he'd taken the Oculus failsafe and the time Ray had flown back in with something to jam in the mechanism. She still has nightmares about those moments. Best not to let that show either.

But she needs to say something, because Leonard's smile has drifted away, and whatever expression she's wearing, he's looking almost uncertain now at her continued silence.

"A friend," he'd said. Well, if nothing else, she can be that.

"It's good to see you," she tells him quietly, meeting his eyes and trying to project her own sincerity. "I've missed you." A beat. "Well. The whole team, really. You know what I mean."

A blink, a pause, and then the smile's back, mostly anyway. "Well, I don't know," he drawls again, drawing circles on the bar top with a finger. "Raymond won't go away so I can miss him."

Sara snorts in amusement. "How's he settled in? Still working with Team Flash?"

"Annoying so." He shrugs. "All that goody-goody optimism in one place...it's even more infuriating than usual."

"Well, you _could_ stop bothering them." She knows he's still making it common practice to let himself in to STAR Labs on a regular basis, because Ray has told her so.

That gets her a wide-eyed, mock-innocent look. "Now...what fun would that be?"

Sara starts to retort again, grinning, then pauses as two of the early birds come in and stand at the opposite end of the bar. With a nod to Leonard, she saunters down to get them each a drink, then flags down the waitress on duty as they both choose to sit at a table for a bite to eat.

Then she draws Leonard a beer—remembering the sort he likes from long hours playing cards on the Waverider—and sets it in front of him, checking her hip against the side of the bar.

"How's Mick?" she asks, folding her arms. "I haven't heard of any fires in Central lately..."

That gets her a snort, even as he takes a sip of the beer. "He's fine, and so is Central City. Mick...isn't bored yet. We all got enough of a cut from Savage's ill-gotten gains that he's still keeping himself in wine, women, and song...or some combination thereof. Sometimes he even joins Raymond in visiting STAR Labs. That's amusing."

Sara looks at him shrewdly, not taking the bait. "And you?" she asks. "Bored?"

Leonard eyes her, that smile still lingering at the corners of his mouth. "Out of my mind," he admits candidly, after a moment. "You?"

What's the point in lying? "Same."

They watch each other for a few moments, then Sara sighs, giving him another small smile. "You think he's still coming back?" she asks, knowing that Leonard, of all people, won't give her the optimistic platitudes that Ray and sometimes even Jax are prone to. "Rip?"

Leonard frowns into his beer, then shrugs, glancing back up at her.

"Don't know," he admits. "We both know that time travel isn't always as...precise...as the good captain would have us believe. And I may be a cynical bastard..." He smirks as Sara nods vigorously. "...but he's got his wife and kid back and he might be distracted." His expression is a very Snartlike mix of cynicism and amusement. "And let's admit it, we're not necessarily what the old Time Bastards would have wanted as their successors." He nods back at her. "He might have thought better of it."

"You have a point." Just to have something to do with her hands, Sara moves to wet the towel down and starts wiping the counter again. Impossible not to think about this being her future, she thinks glumly: assassin-turned-bartender. She's even trying to stay away from patrolling the city, in deference to Oliver's new role and the status quo. She could leave the city, but...

When she glances at him, Leonard looks lost in thought, eyes distant. If she's having issues trying to figure out what to do next, what is he contemplating? He still scowls at every mention of the word "hero," but is he really still a crook?

She doesn't think so.

"What will you do?" she asks, leaning against the counter and lowering her voice. "If he doesn't? Back to a life of crime and fighting the Flash instead of simply being a pain in his ass? Probably a little rusty on planning heists, aren't you?"

Her words jar him out of his reverie and earn her a pair of raised eyebrows but not the frown she'd been expecting.

"What makes you think I haven't?" he drawls, tilting his head again.

"Well, you don't usually work alone, and you just pretty much said Mick's not working with you right now," Sara informs him. "It probably would have taken you longer to put a good team together after being out of town a while. And I've been keeping an eye on headlines, and there hasn't been anything even remotely worthy of you." She points a finger at him as he smirks. "And if you were in the middle of something, you wouldn't be here right now."

Leonard just gives her one of those looks from underneath his lashes and sips his drink.

She hesitates, nibbling her bottom lip. "What does bring you here, anyway?" she asks finally, voice pitched even lower. "Not that I'm not glad to see you. But Central's your home, and it's been nine weeks, and..." _And I thought you'd forgotten about me_. "...and I guess I'm just wondering."

At her words, his face grows serious again, and he glances away, then back, in an oddly uncertain gesture. And Sara has the abrupt impression that he's almost a little nervous.

The last time he'd seemed nervous around her...

"Actually," he says, eyes meeting hers in a way that is, indeed, strangely reminiscent of that moment in her room at the Vanishing Point, a realization that sends a shiver down her spine, "I wondered if you might be up for...a little trouble."

Of course, Leonard-goddamned-Snart can't ask a woman out like a normal human being. That would be boring.

"Now, that sounds interesting," she manages, folding her arms and leaning on the counter right in front of him, putting them more eye to eye. "What sort of trouble? I take it you need backup?"

Leonard appears to be very interested in his drink again, then glances back up. "I need...a partner," he says quietly. "Someone I can trust. You interested?"

Of course he hadn't driven all the way here just to see how she was doing, or to ask her to go to dinner—or to steal that kiss. Sara smirks at him, hiding the rush of disappointment even as she welcomes the idea of some sort of action. "Maybe," she says, matching his drawl. "Where?"

He glances meaningfully around, then back at her, raising an eyebrow.

He obviously doesn't mean the bar. "You..." Sara glances around too, then leans forward, lowering her voice to a whisper. "You want me. Me, the daughter of a former SCPD detective. Me, the friend of the mayor and resident vigilante. Me, to help you pull off a caper in Star City."

Did she imagine that tiny hesitation?

Then: "Bingo," Leonard tells her solemnly. "You in?"

Sara stares at him, then glances around the bar. At the regulars, who've been in at almost the exact same time every day since she'd started; at Maria, the waitress, a family friend who'd told her about the opening here. She thinks about the future of an assassin-turned-bartender.

About slowly losing her mind.

She throws the towel down on the bar and grins at him.

"Damned right I am."

* * *

He always has a plan. He should have had a plan.

He didn't have a plan.

To himself and himself alone, Leonard Snart will admit that he'd hopped on his motorcycle and driven more than 600 miles to Central City on...a whim.

Because Raymond had said Sara seemed lonely, and bored, and Leonard—also bored and maybe a little lonely too—had started wondering if, just maybe, his presence would be appreciated after all, despite cold guns and _hell of a thief_ and, well, everything.

He doesn't do whims, or at least he never has. But that's precisely what it was, and deep inside, he'll admit that it was worth it the moment Sara had opened her eyes, seen him, and smiled in that way that'd seemed like she'd been waiting to see him for the past two months.

Leonard shifts a little, uncomfortably, remembering. His...well, he supposes it's his heart, although other body parts had gotten involved as well...had done this odd little flip-flop thing at that smile.

He's in trouble. He's in so much trouble.

It's not like he does stuff like dating, he thinks with irritation. He can be forgiven for hesitating at the notion of simply asking her to dinner, right? That's just not their kind of thing. It's not so surprising that his mind had gone blank.

He'll admit that planning a heist with Sara sounds like fun, Leonard decides, rising to his feet as Sara emerges from the office and heads toward him, that warm and interested smile still on her face. Something far more _them_ than the stupidly cliché dinner and a movie.

Now, he just has to come up with one.


	2. Chapter 2

Sara's promised to finish out her shift, but otherwise seems quite happy to leave the bartending job behind her for a time to help him with whatever plan he's come up with. It's really been about keeping busy, she'd told him with a grin, and if she gets to put down the occasional bar brawl, that's even better.

She's just so obviously pleased, so sincerely happy to see him, that he's really regretting not showing up earlier. Maybe then he'd have thought of something better than a heist that has no basis in reality. But maybe this happiness has more to do with the promise of doing something, anything, than with his presence, he thinks a tad glumly as she watches her bantering with a few customers down at the other end of the bar.

Well. He can understand that.

Her breaks are becoming fewer as the crowd picks up, but she keeps returning to his corner when she can, refilling his drink (he'd switched to soda hours ago) and leaning on the bar to chat. They wrap references to their time on the Waverider in coded words that won't alert those around them to things like time travel and assassins and immortal psychopaths, grinning at each other when one or the other makes a particularly good reference.

"I'm here until closing tonight," she says with a sigh during one brief break, just as things are getting truly busy. "I'm sure you don't want to hang around that long…"

He would, actually, if she asked.

But he can take a hint.

"I can take off now," he says smoothly, rising from the bar stool and reaching for his jacket. "See you tomorrow?"

Is that a flash of disappointment in her eyes? But Sara nods and gives him a half-smile, then hesitates, moving closer.

"Whatever this is, Crook," she says in a low tone, "no one gets hurt. Right?"

He gives her a mock-offended look. She _knows_ his feelings on that. "A heist in which there's violence is a poorly planned heist."

"I know. But…well…"

 _Cop's daughter_. "Promise," he tells her, trying to convey his seriousness with the tone of his voice. "I'll give you more info tomorrow. Where do you want to meet?"

Sara looks thoughtful. "I'm staying with a friend," she says slowly. "So that won't work." She smiles a little, eyeing him. "I know too many people around here, and you're a bit too notorious, to make this really convenient," she says with amusement. "You sure this is a good idea?"

 _In for a penny_. "Positive." He gives her a look through his eyelashes. "Notorious, huh?"

She leans close…close enough to make him inhale sharply, something she can't possibly miss…and then grins again. "Extremely."

She takes a step back as he tries to look like he's not composing himself. "There's a park down by the waterfront. Meet you about noon? It's not like either of us is a morning person."

"That works." The more time he has to figure out what he's doing here, the better. "I'll bring coffee."

"My hero."

She laughs at the look he gives her before he leaves.

* * *

Sara's humming to herself when she turns back to the bar, her heart lighter than it's been in a while. She's still smiling while serving a bunch of the usual suspects—the man older than her father whose fingers she'd had to threaten to break the first night she was here (but only once), the pairs of "bros" she's pretty sure are secretly dating, the giggling just-barely 21s she keeps a keen eye on.

And when she turns around again, Maria is standing there, watching her with a knowing smile.

"You know," she comments to the younger woman, "you just lost me a bet with myself. I'd wagered myself a new pair of heels that you'd be goin' home with that young man."

Despite another twinge of regret, Sara can't help but laugh at the thought of Leonard's reaction to being called "young man." "He's a former...co-worker," she tells Maria breezily. "Needs some help with something. A friend."

"Mmhmm. You didn't see the way he was watchin' you when you weren't looking," the older woman says shrewdly, turning to hand off a beer. "That's not how 'just friends' look at each other."

Sara snorts. "I'm wearing tight jeans," she reminds her friend. "He has eyes."

"That's not what I meant."

There's something in Maria's tone that makes Sara stop, even in the middle of the chaos of the bar, and stare at her.

"That man looked at you like you were water, and he hadn't had a drink in weeks," the waitress says, leaning on the bar, nostalgia in her voice and a certain understanding. "And I don't mean 'cause of the jeans, although I'm sure that helps. I remember my Elena looking at me like that, way back when. Not that she doesn't still, sometimes, but..."

"It's not...

 _...for me...and you...and me and you..._

"...like that," Sara finishes lamely. "If he wanted to..."

 _You want to steal a kiss from me, Leonard?_ "

"...he'd have said..."

 _You'd better be a hell of a thief._

Sara sighs. "It's busy," she tells the other woman, "I have to get back to work."

Maria watches her younger colleague move down to the other end of the bar and shakes her head before heading back into the Friday night fray.

"And you, honey," she says with a sigh, gathering a tray full of drinks, "you looked at him just the same."

* * *

Research into the leading Star City museums comes up empty. Leonard frowns at the screen of his laptop. There are valuables there, sure, but none of a level of uniqueness that would really tempt him. He doesn't think a heist of mere monetary value is really going to impress Sara, anyway, and frankly, these days it doesn't really interest him either.

Which leaves stealing something useful, unique, valuable in a nonmonetary way…or at least valuable in more than a monetary way. But what…and why…

He leans back in his chair and stares at the screen, a memory-and faint tendril of inspiration—rising. Yes…yes, that could work.

But he still needs something to steal. And there's no way around it: with this sort of timeframe, he's going to need to ask for help.

Leonard sighs, picks up his phone, stares at it a moment, and then sighs again and dials a number.

One ring. Two.

"Hello?"

"Scarlet," he says, keeping his tone businesslike. "I need a favor."

A long pause. Then: "Snart?" Barry Allen says, his tone mystified. "Where are…what kind of favor?"

"Who's someone in Star City who deserves to be stolen from?"

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me." Leonard rises from the desk, strolls over to the windows in the hotel suite. "I need to find someone in Star City with information to steal. Information they don't want anyone to have. A 'bad guy,' to use your simplistic terminology."

"I can't help you steal." Barry sounds appalled. There's the faint sound of traffic in the background; he must have left wherever speedsters hang out on Friday nights and gone outside. Good. "And it's not exactly my territory anyway."

"But you know people here."

"Yeah, well, so do you!" A beat. "Wait. You're in Star City?"

"Do _not_ tell Mick. Or Raymond."

"Ray would probably know someone, you know." Barry sounds a little less appalled now and a little more amused. "Or you could ask Sara Lance. She lives there, you know."

The kid can't see him, but Leonard rolls his eyes anyway. "Yeah, yeah," he drawls, trying to keep his voice uninterested. "Come on, I'll owe you a favor. There's gotta be someone here who could stand to be taken down a few pegs…or just be taken down. I just need a lead."

"Why?"

That gives him pause. "I can't tell you."

"Then no deal."

There's a little steel in the kid's voice. Leonard's impressed.

"Look," he says, wheedling a little. "I've already promised that no one gets hurts on this…job. And you know the sort of people I mean. The rich, the powerful, the ones that think no one can touch them. There's got to be someone."

Barry sighs. "Look," he says, and Leonard can hear him starting to cave. "I'm sure there is. But I don't know who I could…"

He stops, the wheels nearly audibly turning.

"Spill it."

"OK, OK." Barry says slowly. "I do know someone. I'll ask if…if they know anyone who'll fit the bill. I can't guarantee anything. When do you need it by?"

"Tomorrow morning. As early as possible."

" _What!_? Snart, you do realize it's past 11 p.m…."

"I'll owe you one, kid. Thanks." Smirking, he hangs up on Barry's protests and stretches, then heads back to the computer.

He may have walked into this without a plan, but he'll be damned if he doesn't know Star City as well as he can by the next time he sees Sara.

Time to do some studying. And thank god for Google Maps.

* * *

The people strolling in Star City's Galleria Mall might be forgiven if they, consciously or unconsciously, move to veer around the bespectacled blond woman who's muttering to herself as she stalks through the building's main concourse, cup of coffee in one hand, the other clenched in a fist. None of the stores are open yet, but the mall walkers and mommy-and-me groups are out in force, and she weaves through them like a woman on a mission, grumbling as she goes.

Eventually, she selects an unoccupied bench at the opposite end from the food court, one of the quieter locations at the time. Still, anyone who ventured down to that end of the mall might hear the odd word of profanity, mixed in with "Barry" and "Allen" and "owe me." After a few moments of peering suspiciously around, she opens her cup of coffee and takes a long drink, sighing as caffeine hits bloodstream.

And that's when a tall man, dressed impeccably in jeans and a dove-gray button-down shirt, drops into the seat next to her.

"Good morning, Ms. Smoak," he drawls. "You're looking well."

Felicity, whose first impulse is to slap him and whose second impulse is to reach for the Mace in her purse, can't restrain a tiny yelp of surprise, followed by a defensive slide to the other end of the bench. The man in question, however, doesn't react, simply leaning back on the bench and smirking at her.

"Leonard Snart. Goddamnit, Barry. You could have..." Then she stops and narrows her eyes at him. "What are you doing in Star City? Does Sara know you're here?"

Snart, to her surprise, promptly loses the smug smile and blinks at her.

"What?" he says blankly.

"Sara. Sara Lance," Felicity shoots back impatiently. "I know you know her; she's talked about how you traveled together. Tried to tell me you weren't a bad guy. I thought you... you Legends... were a team; if you came all this way and haven't..."

"She talks about me?"

Snart, apparently, is still hung up on her earlier words.

And just like that, it starts coming together.

Felicity bites back her ire and eyes him speculatively, then shakes her head. "Barry didn't tell me you were the one who wanted information," she says, ignoring his question. "He's going to pay for that. But I managed to put together what he asked. And...noooo..." She raises a hand as he starts to say something. "First, I want to know why you want this. And you can't just talk me into it like you did him, buddy. Barry's too nice for his own good some days."

Snart glares at her. She glares back.

He's far less intimidating with Sara's words about cards games and bar brawls and chubby-cheeked babies in mind, she decides while glaring. And he is a damned fine-looking man, if you don't have to worry about the whole cold-gun-pointed-at-you thing.

Finally, he sighs, tilting his head to the side, a long-suffering expression on his face. Felicity folds her arms and waits.

"I need to plan a heist," Snart says finally. "Something out of the ordinary. And no, I'm not telling you why, but I've already promised no one will get hurt. I just need a good target. Someone who deserves a...comeuppance, if you will."

Felicity studies him a moment longer, frowning. She's pretty sure he's telling the truth, as far as it goes, but the lack of reasons bugs her. Why isn't he in Central City—a city he allegedly knows like the back of his hand-to pull off his mystery heist? Why Star? Why is the heist itself what matters most?

And...

And he never said Sara didn't know he was here.

Felicity's mouth drops open and she stares at him, the pieces falling into place in her head.

"That's it!" she breathes. "You're doing this to impress Sara!"

Snart's eyes widen, but he doesn't immediately retort, which Felicity takes as confirmation of her wild guess. "That's it! I'm right, aren't I?" She sets her coffee down, clapping her hands. "Aww, does Captain Cold have a crush?"

The crook opens his mouth, closes it. Felicity grins. "No, more than a crush." She tilts her head, considering him. "You…

"Enough."

Snart's voice is quiet enough, intense enough, that she actually listens, startled out of her amusement by his tone. He looks her right in the eyes, then glances away and shrugs.

"Do you have the information, or not?" he mutters, "because if not, I have better things I could be doing with my time."

He couldn't have confirmed it more if he'd shouted "I've fallen for Sara Lance" from the rooftops. Felicity takes a deep breath, then nods, opening the fingers of her left hand to show him a USB flash drive.

"This is everything we have on Steven Kay, one of Star City's top tycoons." She nods as Snart's eyes narrow. "I see you've heard of him. Pardon my language, but he's a real dick. I'm pretty sure he's all about the blackmail, but it's not easy to prove, and...the Green Arrow...can't go after everyone..."

"Yes, I'm sure he's very busy." Snart smirks at her in a way that makes Felicity uncomfortably sure he knows exactly who the Green Arrow is, then frowns at the drive. "So, if you have the information there..."

"This is just background information on him, his business, and his building, along with some past suspicions and allegations. He keeps his black book in hard copy." Felicity glares at the drive herself. "It's very irritating. The book is, from what I'm told, locked in his penthouse office in the Kay building downtown. Lots of security, etc., etc. _That's_ what you want."

"So, not only is that likely enough to take Kay down, but also lots of his rotten big-business buddies, because this guy's not going to bother with pocket change," Snart muses. "Yeah. Yeah, that works."

He lifts an eyebrow at her and extends a hand. Felicity sighs, then reaches out to hand over the drive ...but pauses.

"And once you have the black book," she asks sternly, "what are you going to do with it? 'Cause the selling-it-to-the-highest-bidder thing, it doesn't work out well. This could do a lot of damage in the wrong hands."

Snart's mouth twitches, perhaps at the notion he could be considered the _right_ hands. Still, he nods at the question, allowing her the point.

"I have...a friend. Well, a friend of my sister's. Who has a team. They provide..." He thinks it over a moment, then cocks his head at her, "...leverage."

Felicity's mouth forms a startled little "o" and she stares at him another minute. Then she nods back.

"I...might know something about that," she admits slowly. "Yeah. Yeah, that's a good place for this. You'd give it to them? Promise?"

"Does my promise actually mean anything to you?" He's expecting scorn in response, but Felicity gives him a long look, then shrugs.

"If only because of Sara," she says. "Whatever else is going on with you two, I think you care about what she thinks. And if you know her at all, you know not to really piss her off, or you might wind up with a bad case of _dead_ or _maimed_."

She reaches out, then, and drops the drive into his outstretched hand. Snart pockets it smoothly, then rises, giving her an enigmatic smile as he does so.

"You won't tell..."

"No." Felicity rolls her eyes. "Not unless I have to for some reason. So don't give me one, OK? Sara likes you, though I haven't the foggiest idea why. I'd hate to mess that up."

Snart nods, seriously, but then the familiar smirk reappears.

"Well, then," he drawls, turning away. "Nice doing business with you, Ms. Smoak. My regards to the mayor."

Felicity watches him saunter off into the mall, shaking her head, then grins smugly as she takes a sip of her coffee.

"Still the age of the geek," she quips happily, "baby!"


	3. Chapter 3

Leonard has to admit he's impressed. If Felicity Smoak ever expressed any interest in turning (returning?) to a life of crime, he could definitely make use of her talents.

The files on the drive are well organized and meticulously detailed, and reading between the lines, he can find some frustration at a past inability to take Kay down. A personal vendetta? Well, the man's done enough damage to people and families that Leonard wouldn't be surprised. For once, though, he decides it's none of his business.

(Mostly. He does mentally file the information away—just in case.)

There's a lot of information there and he reads through it as fast as possible, knowing that he only has a few hours before meeting Sara and still needs to at least fake having his usual careful plans. Leaning back afterward, Leonard drums his fingertips on the desktop and ponders, shuffling pieces around in his head and trying to fit them together in a way that makes sense.

Usually, he'd have a team for something like this: someone to act as the muscle, probably Mick; someone to run the tech side of things; a few more reasonably intelligent warm bodies to act as distractions or extra pairs of hands. Usually, he'd plan a heist this complicated for weeks, even months, beforehand.

He doesn't have a team. He doesn't have weeks.

For a moment, he wonders it'd just be better to 'fess up, to admit that he hadn't planned this, to see if Sara would be willing to just…to just…

His brain refuses to imagine it, just plain stalls at the notion of telling her he'd drive all this way just to see her, to talk to her, to ask her to get a drink.

Fuck it.

Stubbornly, grimly, he scans the documentation about the Kay building again, experienced eye picking out all the details about security. Even in the wee hours of the morning, there's a full crew on, and they're highly trained—if he can believe Smoak's notes, and he's inclined to.

There aren't many weaknesses to exploit; this Kay fellow knows what he's about. Leonard shakes his head, then opens a search engine, looking for any additional details about the man himself.

And there, third item from the top, he finds it.

Leonard reads the news story in full, smirking a little. One can't rely on luck in a heist, but every once in a while...

Still, there are a lot of moving pieces here, and not much time at all. But he knows what to target.

The weakest link in a system—security or otherwise—is always the people.

* * *

Sara gets to the park a few minutes earlier than the appointed meeting time, in part just so she can do her usual routine of staring at that awful, well-meant statue and have the same conversation in her head that she always has.

" _Isn't it awful, Laurel? I don't know what they were thinking. It isn't like there aren't any photos of you to show them what you really looked like. I'm sorry I wasn't here to stop it. You wouldn't want a statue at all, let alone this…thing."_

" _But maybe you'd think it was funny. You always surprised me like that. You'd be the prim older sister…and then you'd snicker at something absolutely appalling and then we'd be laughing like we used to…you might find this thing hysterical."_

But there the script in her head branches off, as she stands there gazing at the statue that most definitely is not her sister, but has come to symbolize a connection to her regardless.

" _I'm meeting someone here, Laurel. And I…I don't know what he means to me. I know he's been a friend, and I know that I'm still trying to decide what it means that I was_ so _happy to see him yesterday. I've been turning that over in my head a lot. I'd have been happy to see almost anyone from the team, but it was a little…more than that. It was like puzzle pieces, fitting back together, and that…that scares me a little."_

" _I wish you were here."_

But Laurel's not, and she'll never be, and Sara walks back over to a bench and sits down with a sigh, closing her eyes and trying to clear her mind.

She'll give the crook this…he's punctual. No sooner has her watch showed that it's noon than Leonard drops into the seat next to her, handing her a coffee without comment. Sara nods her thanks, trying to ignore the rush of…something…at seeing him, and takes a sip without even looking at the contents, raising an eyebrow when it's just how she prefers it.

Leonard smirks as he takes a drink from his own coffee. "No sugar, two cream," he drawls. "I pay attention."

"Hmmm. And are you drinking the sugar-with-a-drop-or-two-of-coffee you prefer?" She sips again, raising her eyebrows at him.

Leonard just lifts an eyebrow back. "Don't knock it 'til you've tried it," he drawls, saluting her with his coffee cup.

"No, thanks," she shoots back, trying to ignore the innuendo in his voice. (Does he do that on purpose?) "I actually like having all my teeth."

Leonard—whose teeth are just fine, thank you, and she knows it—lets out a quiet huff of laughter, and they sit a moment longer in silence, ingesting caffeine.

Sara glances back over after a few minutes, and sees him gazing at the statue. His eyes are too intent for him not to know what it is, and this odd merging of two pieces of her life gives Sara pause for just a moment.

Mick had told her Leonard had "socked ol' Rip a good one" after the captain knocked her out after the...the news about Laurel, and Rip had used the knock-out gadget on Leonard too for his pains. They hadn't really talked about it, later...beyond his quiet "I'm sorry" before she'd left for Star City to see her father. At the time, she'd been too distracted, too upset, to respond with more than a "thank you," but now, she wonders what he's thinking.

"That's supposed to be...?" he says after a moment, a question in his voice.

"Yeah." Sara shakes her head. "I know. It's awful." She supposes it's no surprise at all that Leonard I-do-my-research Snart knows not only what Laurel Lance looked like, but that this statue, which doesn't resemble her at all, is supposed to be her memorial.

She doesn't want pity from him, she realizes. The quiet understanding of before is enough. She already knows he gets it. She doesn't want to deal with...

"We could steal it."

There's mischief in his tone, and Sara blinks, smiling after a moment as the unexpected comment registers.

"The statue? Excuse me?"

The blue eyes sparkle as he glances at her. "If we stole it, they might replace it with something better."

"We can't steal the statue."

"I've stolen bigger."

"I'm sure." Grinning now (how had he known what would snap her out of her mood?) Sara shifts around sideways on the bench, facing him, and shakes her head. "I thought we had better things to do? So, are you going to let me in on it or not?"

Leonard gives her that damn-sexy look from under his eyelashes again. He doesn't obviously look around them. He doesn't need to. "Are you familiar with Steven Kay?"

Sara stares at him a moment. "You're not...working for him?"

"Nope." He takes a sip of his sugar-coffee concoction. "He's the target."

Impossible to grow up in Star City and not know about the Kay family. The names of both the current rat-bastard and his father were bywords for crookedness and corruption, even as some people seemed to adore them as "straight-shooters." Still, not quite enough: Although the senior Kay had run for public office several times, he'd narrowly been defeated each one. And the younger seemed uninterested in politics.

From what Sara'd heard, he's far more interested in destroying other businesses and collecting dirt on his fellow "upper class" members, even as he schmoozed with them. Laurel had absolutely loathed him.

"I can get behind that," she says slowly. "What in particular?"

"Heard of his black book?" Leonard's still watching her closely. "In his case, it's actually literal. And it's full of dirt."

That's another open secret, and the main reason no one's ever taken Kay down. Sara nibbles her lip, eyeing him. "And what are you planning on doing with this...dirt?"

"Got a buyer." He gives her another slow smirk. "Someone known for...shall we say...creative retribution. I...trust them."

That gives her pause. She's pretty sure that the number of people Leonard Snart truly trusts can be counted on one hand. (She hopes she's one of them.) "OK...what's the plan?"

That gets an odd little smile, although it quickly fades as he studies her, eyes intense. "Well, part one is getting into his building and that's locked down tight. However..." He leans forward a little. "Tomorrow night, he's hosting his annual gala to support this charity thing of his…not that anyone really thinks it's anything other than a way to browbeat those in 'debt' to him to spend money making him look good. Still, it's one of the few times other people are allowed into the building.

"And…" There's definitely an air of gleeful challenge in his eyes. "There was a bit of an oversight in the planning this year." He pauses. "They didn't put names on the actual invites. So we turn up with one, we look the part, we get in. Think you can get your hands on one?"

There's no denying she understands exactly what he's getting at. Sara thinks a moment, then meets his gaze again, trying hard to keep her disappointment from showing.

"Len," she says slowly, choosing her words carefully, "did you ask me to be part of this just because I know the mayor?" Who almost certainly got an invitation, and he knows it.

Leonard's reaction is immediate, and not what she expected. His eyes widen, just a little, and he sits back a moment before almost blurting out: "What? No. I can make other plans for it, but..." As Sara watches, he visibly composes himself, then gives her a very direct look again.

"This would just make...one aspect...of the job easier, if you could do it," he says evenly. "Really. Not a big deal."

He's tried to conceal it and it's quite subtle, but Leonard looks rattled. Leonard almost never looks rattled. She can't help wondering why.

Still, the genuineness of the reaction reassures her. Sara takes another sip of her coffee, feeling the hurt wash away, before smirking at him.

"I can probably do that," she admits. "Oliver hates these things, and he really hates Kay. Of course, that means the man is constantly trying to get Oliver to fall in line and play along like so many of the other big names in Star City. I'll have to get into the mayor's office on a weekend, but…" She shrugs. "I can handle it."

Leonard nods, businesslike. "Getting in is the first step. Beyond that…" He looks at her sideways again. "I have the rest of the plans back at the hotel. Stop by later, we'll plan, I'll buy you dinner…?"

It's on the tip of her tongue to ask why he didn't just ask her out if he wants to buy her dinner.

But she doesn't.

* * *

Leonard doesn't doubt for a second that, once she's agreed to do it, Sara will come through with the invitation. He's still a touch unnerved that she first thought he was just using her, however. (Especially since he'd completely forgotten about that mayoral connection.)

Granted, he's been known to use people.

But not her. Never her.

And as much as it pains him to admit it, he's trying to be better.

After their meeting at the waterfront, he heads over to the Kay building and cases it the best he can from the outside. Sure, he has all the plans and diagrams of some key areas, but there's nothing like actual recognizance, just in case.

Then he heads back to the hotel, settling in to pour over said diagrams and other information, one eye on the clock, anticipating her arrival.

Leonard will admit that as the pieces come together, he's finding the old love of a challenge rearing its head, the thrill of the chase, of arranging a heist with so many important parameters so quickly. And it's refreshing, because he knows he can count on Sara to step up and play her role, and play it well; so well he can trust her beyond a shadow of a doubt.

That's...nice.

As it turns out, he's so immersed in scenarios and planning and all the puzzle pieces that the time passes faster than expected. Still, he's pacing a bit by the time she arrives, trying to pretend he's not although there's no one there to see him. He takes his time sauntering to the door when she knocks, trying to look like he's not, well, eager.

Sara grins at him when he opens the door, slipping past him without a word. When he turns, eyebrows raised, she's standing in the middle of the suite, bouncing on her toes and giving the room a thorough once over.

"Very nice," she says with approval. "I say this as someone who's been camped out on a couch in a too-small apartment for the past few weeks."

It's on the tip of his tongue to suggest she stay with him. He doesn't do it, attempting to conceal the impulse behind a smirk as he strolls over to meet her.

In their usual shipboard interactions, it's not like either one of them tried to keep their eyes to themselves. But this is different, and when she turns to meet him, he decides it's really the better part of valor to keep his eyes on her face, and not the rather low-cut shirt she'd decided to wear.

He's a professional. He's being professional.

Damnit.

Something about Sara's answering smirk says she knows exactly what he's thinking, but she chooses not to tease him, reaching instead into of the bag she's carrying. "As promised." She withdraws a small rectangle of cream-colored paper and extends it. "Easy. Oliver was working anyway; I visited and rummaged his recycling bin when he stepped out a moment. They're not being emptied regularly because of the budget cuts; he's been bitching about that steadily."

"Convenient." Leonard examines the invitation in satisfaction, then nods over her shoulder at the desk and the laptop and papers spread out on it. "The schematics and all the information I have are there. Give them a read-through. I have plans, but I want to know what you think. Maybe you'll make a connection I didn't."

That gets him a sparkling look. "Will do. And...I was promised dinner?"

"Take-out OK? Or room service?" He cocks his head at her. "Or would you rather go somewhere?"

"No, looks like there's too much to do here. Take-out would be excellent." She pulls out the desk chair and folds herself into it neatly, glancing up at him. "You know, one of the best taco trucks in Star City is parked just a little down the block."

After a moment, she snorts at the look of distaste he knows is on his face. "Or not. Look, there's a Big Belly Burger and a Chinese take-out place right down the street. Either would be fine."

"No. Just...they're so...messy..."

"I'll keep your precious papers clean, Len." Another impish look before she turns back to the computer. "I promise."

Tacos it is.

Due to the line at the "best truck taco in Star City," it takes a while before he's on his way back up to the suite, paper bags exuding—he'll admit it—delicious aromas in hand. Sara watches as he steps through the door, then shoves herself back from the desk with a foot and rises, accepting the bag holding her braised beef tacos with a hum of anticipation.

They eat in silence at first, taking over the suite's narrow breakfast bar with their meals and drinks. Leonard, a touch squeamish about mess, should admit his spicy chicken quesadilla (the least sloppy thing he could find on the menu) is excellent, and Sara's pleasure in her meal is evident. She notices him watching her and smirks a little, reaching a foot across under the table and nudging his leg.

"Told you it was good."

"Never doubted you." He smiles a little as she finds the cinnamon brownie he'd added to both their meals, then has to stifle a groan—and the sudden desire to kiss the crumbs off the corners of her mouth—when she carefully licks the chocolate from her fingers.

Sara seems oblivious. "Ready to start talking shop?" she asks, stuffing napkins and wrappings back in the bag and spinning on her stool to lob the paper missile at the garbage can. "I want to hear what you have in mind."

Too many responses he could make to that.

But he's professional.

He's a professional.

"Well," he says carefully, gathering his own meal's refuse, "here's the plan..."

Sara listens intently as he sketches it out in words, interjecting the odd comment or astute observation here and there. After a moment, he rises and grabs a notepad from the desk, returning and starting to make notes, sketch a few things, explain what he's thinking and why. Sara leans toward him, asks questions, offers suggestions. Len considers them a moment, then crosses a few things out and starts reworking things using her ideas, asking her a few questions in return as he does so.

They work together so well, so comfortably, that time passes quickly, and Leonard's startled when he looks up at one point and realizes that the light of the setting sun is visible outside the hotel windows. He glances over at Sara and sees that she's looking at him, a smile hovering around the corners of her mouth, a light in her eyes.

He wonders what she's thinking.

* * *

Sara's wondering, idly, if she should try seducing him.

She's pretty sure he'd be amenable, based on the so-obvious way he's trying not to stare at her cleavage and those little, warm looks he keeps shooting her, especially when he thinks she isn't looking.

And she has decided that this is, yes, a thing she wants.

It would be easy, so easy, to lean over a little further and kiss him, to speak with something other than words for a while, to find out what "me and you" had really meant that day.

She wants it. She wants _him_.

And it would be so easy.

But this has been...nice. They're colleagues, teammates, even in a team of two, and this little operation sounds like it has the potential to do a lot of good. Does she really want to risk messing that up?

And really—it's _his_ turn to steal the kiss.

Sara studies him a moment longer, then lets her gaze drop back to their notes—and frowns. "Wait a moment," she murmurs. "You said Kay's security usually has a metal detector for the guests. You're not taking your cold gun?"

Leonard shrugs. "Nope," he says simply. "Not that kind of a job. The less weaponry the better."

Sara thinks of the multiple weapons hidden on her person, even now. "And does that apply to me as well?"

He snorts and levels a gaze at her. "One, like you don't have ways to get weapons in anyway. Two…" His eyes narrow and the look in them makes her reconsider her decision not to pursue…things…now. "…Sara, you _are_ a weapon."

She stares at him a moment. Definitely reconsidering. "Well, compliments aside," she says finally, watching him smile again, "I can understand that. The idea is how to stay a step ahead of them."

"Precisely." He frowns at a microscopic spot of sauce at the desk, then glances back up at her. "So. Step one is getting in. Three pieces to that: We have the invite. We can both act the part. Do you have…"

"Why, yes, Leonard, I have a suitable dress." Sara smirks at him, leaning forward again. "And I think you'll really like it." She hesitates. "Actually, I need to get it out of storage. Check a few things. When and where would you like to meet tomorrow?"

He's quiet a moment longer than he needs to be, and Sara wonders if he's considering asking her to stay too. But if he is, he doesn't say anything, and they agree to meet at noon the next day for another round of planning.

And then it's show time.


	4. Chapter 4

Sara spreads a restless night, her imagination (and her body) informing her that she really should have seduced Len back at the hotel. She's really glad, she decides, that Thea is out of town. For one thing, her friend would have figured out something was going on immediately.

She's even gladder that she's managed to avoid Felicity since Len first showed up. She's confused enough about her feelings without the other woman making one of her typical, oddly perceptive guesses.

She gets the dress she has in mind out of storage in the morning (smirking to herself as she envisions Len's response), then, somewhat guiltily, gets coffee with her dad. She knows that while she's here, she should be spending more time with him, but...

They still can't help but remind each other of Laurel, even when they're trying not to. So much they'd usually talk about reminds them of her, and it's still too new, too raw, for even the innocuous—a comment about her favorite restaurant, a reference to a childhood memory-not to sting.

And so they sit at a table outside the café, and chat, and try to pretend they're not trying to feel their way across an emotional minefield.

She bids him goodbye with a few more prickles of guilt, knowing she's going back into danger tonight, hoping that their plan goes as smoothly as she and Len hope it will. Still, she knows her father hates Kay nearly as much as Laurel does…did…and he's always been proud of his girls and how they fight to right wrongs. This is just using new and even more nontraditional means. Right?

Sara makes it to the hotel early, then paces outside for a while, trying not to look too eager, either for the thrill of the game (she gets, now, why Len enjoys it so much) or the company. Still, she knocks on his door at 12:07 p.m., pleased when he opens it with alacrity, slipping past him to drop her bag onto the floor.

Leonard smirks at her as she spins to look at him, eyeing the bag and lifting an eyebrow at her. He's dressed casually again, in a gray T-shirt and jeans, and he looks…good. (She tells her still-interested libido to chill, no pun intended. It doesn't listen.)

"Yes, I brought the dress," she tells him, guessing the reason for the inquiring expression. "Yes, it's folded up in there. It's meant to be resilient, so don't give me that look. I'll take it out and hang it up if you'll turn around."

He's obviously wondering why he has to look away, but ostentatiously does so, presenting her with a broad set of shoulders, musculature clearly visible through the shirt in a way he rarely displays. (Down, girl.) Sara gives herself a mental shake, then removes the dress, smiling as the wrinkles shake out as the garment was designed to do, hanging it in the empty entryway closet before clearing her throat to signal that she's done.

Leonard turns slowly, smirk still in place. "Such secrecy," he drawls. "Now I'm curious."

"You'll see later." She grins at him. "Now. I was thinking about what you said about the cameras..."

They go over the plans again, then once more, picking over the same details and hashing out alternatives. Sara glances up at one point and sees Leonard perusing blueprints again, eyes laser sharp, thought lines etched between his brows.

In a world without Lewis Snart in it, she wonders, what could he have become? An engineer? An architect, an artist, a writer? Or was that restless, brilliant mind always bound to get bored, to turn to something outside the bounds of so-called normal life?

Not so unlike a bored and wild college student who'd run away with her sister's boyfriend and found herself on the path to becoming an assassin...

"What?"

Sara blinks, then focuses on Leonard again. He's smirking just a little and she realizes she's been staring, more or less right at him.

No point in pretending she hasn't. She lifts her eyebrows and smirks right back at him, surprised and just a tiny bit gleeful when he glances away, something more complicated than expected in his expression.

Hmm.

"Got any cards?" she asks casually. "We have a little time to kill."

He does, of course. For a little while, it's not so unlike some of those long, boring days in the time stream, when they'd sought out each other's company for a variety of reasons, starting with boredom and growing into actual camaraderie, occasional concern, and sincere friendship. Sara keeps sneaking glances at him, and knows he's doing the same, but they keep the talk mostly small, peppered with banter and the occasional (mostly joking) accusation of cheating.

Eventually, though, Sara can't help asking more.

"Why didn't you ask your sister to help with this?" she asks casually, pausing before discarding a card. "The heist, I mean. She has a lot more experience with this sort of thing than I do."

Leonard looks thoughtful, keeping his eyes on his cards. (Sara recognizes this as one of his tells, but doesn't mention it.)

"Lisa is...a wild card, sometimes," he says finally. "She knows what she's doing, but she sometimes goes off the boards. I think you see how why I'd need someone a little more disciplined for this." Now his eyes flick to hers, and there's a smile in them. "More or less."

Sara reaches out a foot and nudges him with it. "I can be a wild card," she tells him mildly.

"Mmm. Yes, but you won't unless the miss…the heist actually calls for it." He looks mildly annoyed at some memory. "I always expect the plan to go off the rails, but that doesn't mean I want to actively encourage it to happen."

Sara hums happily at the story that implies and nudges him again. "OK, Snart. Tell."

He spins her a tale of a detailed plan, months in the making, that'd fallen prey to his sister, a whim, a cute waiter, and…a pony. Sara can't quite tell if he's embellishing or how much, but the whole thing is so absurd that she can't help laughing, earning herself a look that tries to be irritated, but doesn't quite manage it.

In fact, he somehow manages to look downright pleased.

"I'm starving," she tells him, climbing to her feet. "Take-out again? What are your thoughts on sushi? I know a place."

Leonard Snart is remarkably unadventurous when it comes to sushi, so Sara takes great glee in ordering the most exotic, raw items she can, eating them with great gusto as he wrinkles his nose and eats a pedestrian California roll. They trade innuendo back and forth as they eat, then get serious again to pore over the blueprints and the plan one more time.

And then it's show time.

* * *

Sara'd grabbed her bag—and, when he'd turned his back, her dress—and vanished into the bathroom, leaving Leonard to shrug and change into his tuxedo in the main room. He's tucking a full set of lock picks (made of a nonmetallic material) into a sleeve and securing a few other items when he hears the bathroom door open.

He has a pretty good idea what's coming, given Sara's secrecy and smugness earlier, so he takes a deep breath and thinks of ice before he straightens his tie and turns around.

It doesn't help.

It's silver, her dress. Silver, and slinky, and slit up the side well past her knee. Oh, and cut down to…

Leonard clears his throat. "Nice dress."

Sara gives him the thorough once-over he'd been avoiding giving her, smirking at him openly. "Nice tux. Did you call for the car?"

"HmmMm. Any time now." Even being a student of the myriad ways Sara Lance could possibly hide weaponry in her outfits, he can't figure out how she's managed it this time. Maybe…

Realizing that he's now giving her that once-over, he clears his throat again and turns away to the computer and plans, not noticing the look of mingled exasperation and amusement on Sara's face. "I'll stow these, just in case. Remember, if something goes sideways, get…"

"Get out, and get the others to help break you out as needed." Her tone has laughter in it as she picks up the just-slightly larger than usual clutch that's sitting on the wardrobe. "I think you're getting used to having a steady backup crew, Len. But I hope it's not necessary. Can you imagine how gleeful Ray would be?"

He shudders theatrically, while acknowledging with a corner of his brain that he really likes the way she says "Len." "Perish the thought." Then, as his phone chimes an alert from the arriving town car, he turns and offers her his arm. "Shall we?"

Smiling, she takes it. "Let's go steal something."

* * *

Despite the shoddy planning with the invitations and what Leonard had been able to glean about the company now handling security for Kay, he's still pleased to find out that it's true. A pair of bored-looking guards watch staff members take their invitation and the sizable amount of money that is their "donation" and wave them in, turning to the next couple even as they stroll into the foyer. He scans the space as unobtrusively as possible as they cross it on the way to the ballroom, noting cameras and likely plainclothes guards and other guests, knowing as he does so that Sara is doing the same.

"Lazy, lazy, lazy," he hears her chant under her breath. "You were right."

"Hmmm. It's an odd oversight for someone like Kay." He frowns. "Or I should say, for his security chief. I wonder…"

"Well, it probably won't last long, so your timing is excellent." Her fingers touch his wrist lightly and he has to stifle a shudder. "In more ways than one."

 _What does she…_ "Timing is important," he drawls quietly as they step into the ballroom. "One doesn't wish to move…prematurely…"

"Of course, one can wait around too long as well."

He's saved from having to respond to that by the need to take in the space around them. A waiter hands Sara a glass of champagne, which she accepts even as Leonard waves one off, as they start to walk around the perimeter.

To all appearances, it matches the plans Smoak had given him. He nods to himself, glancing down at Sara, who's sipping her champagne as she watches the band and the glittering throng of humanity. After a moment, she glances up at him.

"So far, so…"

"…good." He nods. "Everything seems to be right. Once things truly get going and Kay is here, making his rounds and being his vile self, we can…but we probably have a little time first." Hoping his sudden attack of nerves—nerves! him!-doesn't show, he offers her his free hand. "Want to dance, Sara?"

Sara blinks at him, then grins and sets her glass down on a nearby table. She leans a little closer, even as she slides her other hand into his.

"I don't know," she murmurs. "It's not our song."

"We have a…" He remembers a bar in the '70s, a bar brawl and a jukebox sending up a spray of light. "Ah. Still."

He steers her out onto the dance floor, then pulls her closer, trying to walk the line between holding her close enough and too close. Sara seems to have no such reservations, sliding one arm around his waist, her right hand warm in his left. Her eyes sparkle at him as he looks down at her, and it's hard not to smile at the sight.

So he does.

"You're a good dancer," she says after a moment, giving him a thoughtful look. "Not what one usually thinks of as…"

"…a job skill in my line of work?" He smirks at her a little. "You'd be surprised. It's a good way to get close to people."

"And close to places where rich people tend to congregate." Sara's answering smirk tells him she gets it. Leonard turns her a little, starts maneuvering them toward the corner of the ballroom where they need to be, impressed as she easily manages the footwork despite the movement and the heels she's wearing.

"You know what you're doing too."

That earns him another look from under her lashes. "Well. If I have the right partner…"

No answer for that but to pull her a little closer as the band starts another song, a slower one. She gently tugs her hand from his so she can lay her palm flat against his chest. He covers her hand with his own as they sway together.

"Having fun?" he asks under his breath after a few moments.

"More fun than tending bar and waiting for a ship that might never come back." There's humor in her tone, so he doesn't take offense, although he pretends to.

"I think they call that damning with faint praise."

Sara runs her hand up and over his shoulder, letting her fingers stroke across the back of his neck, smirking at the intake of breath he can't entirely control. "Not really. I'm really glad you showed up, Len. I was starting to lose my mind." She lets out a low ripple of laughter that draws glances and smiles from the people around them. "And this is quite honestly the most interesting first date I've ever been on."

His eyes meet hers in surprise, but Leonard can't really refute her statement, so he doesn't try, glancing away and clearing his throat.

Trying to remind himself that they're here on...business...he lifts his head and scans the crowd and the room, checking for anything that stands out, just in case.

"Ah," he says after a moment. "And there's the man of the hour. And...OK, that's unexpected."

Sara glances over her shoulder, and they both watch as the large "Kay for City Council" banner is unrolled against the wall, leading to a spattering of somewhat hesitant applause from the crowd.

"Good word for it," she says quietly. "As far as I'd heard, this Kay was just as happy with a life of money making and blackmail. So what changed?"

"No idea." He frowns. "I don't like something about this."

Sara glances back at him, a clear question on her face. Leonard gives a quick shake of his head, though, and feels the muscles in her back relax, just a little.

Then she moves even closer, resting her head against his shoulder, arm around his waist tightening.

"Looks like we're wrapped up in each other, this way," she murmurs quietly. "No one will think we're paying much attention to anything else."

"Ah," is all he manages. "Right."

He has to keep an eye on Kay without appearing not to do so, however, so he keeps sneaking glances, tracking the man's path across the room and rate of speed. Finally, he simply rests his head against Sara's hair, turning her a little as they move, calculating and plotting.

"I've been watching the movement of the crowd," she says in a low tone, tilting her head up a little, warm breath on jaw making a shudder run down his spine. "You were right; it's like a school of fish with a shark in their midst." Glancing down, he sees her lips curl a little. "If the fish knew they had to make nice with the shark but wanted to avoid it anyway."

"Mmhm," Leonard says absently, still splitting his attention. "It's really quite easy to predict what most people are doing to do, if you watch the patterns. So boring…" Belatedly, he glances back down at her. "Present company included, of course."

Sara gives him an impish smile. "Is that a challenge, Len?" she whispers. "I'm not unpredictable enough for you?"

Every sense he has screams that this way lies danger. "Somehow," he tells her, starting to tense as the song begins to end, "I don't think that's ever going to be a problem."

He tracks Kay again, just as the musicians end the song with a flourish, and makes the call. Stepping back, he catches Sara's hand, raising it to his lips as she laughs, then giving her a tug toward a nearby hallway and starting in that direction.

They have a perfectly valid reason to be there: there are restrooms partway down along its length, closer to their current position than the ones off the foyer. And given their performance of two people who've apparently been availing themselves of the bar—and who are fairly wrapped up in each other—no one watching will probably look twice, except to, possibly, snicker.

But more importantly, the camera coverage in the corridor cuts off just after those bathrooms. According to all the records and Len's practiced eye, there's not a lot of dead space before the camera at the end of the hall picks it back up, but there is a single storage room, and that's where the next stage of their plan will kick into action.

The lock is the work of seconds. They duck inside unobserved. Sara immediately turns away from him, but glances back over her shoulder. "Unzip me?"

There's nothing but polite request in her voice and they're working on a timeline here, so Leonard reminds himself not to waste time in being even more distracted than he already is. He only gets a glimpse of skin before he quickly turns away, ignoring (or pretending to ignore) the sound of fabric shushing down to the floor.

 _Focus_.

He hesitates, a moment, then resolutely strips off his suit and shirt, ill at ease even though he's not actually baring any skin. He's wearing his own jumpsuit under the night-black tux, so it doesn't take long, but Sara's whispering that she's ready not long at all after he is.

He turns just in time to see her turn, too.

It might not be the black leather he knows she'd once worn as the Canary, but the black silk jumpsuit, capable of being packed into even her smallish clutch, is still tight and sleek, even though it doesn't show much skin. Sara's kept her hair in the same updo of braids (one that uncomfortably reminds him of how it'd looked when they'd found her in Nanda Parbat), and she looks cool and deadly and completely professional.

Then she lifts an eyebrow at him as she balances while slipping one of the collapsible black flats over a bare foot.

"I envy you men your sensible shoes," she says drily, standing and stretching. "Although where you got soft-soled ones that looks just like dress shoes, I'd love to know."

"Long story." He watches as she carefully removes some of the underpinnings from her dress, sorting them into safety straps that she fits securely over the jumpsuit. "My, you have all sorts of clever toys..."

"You have _no_ idea." She sends him a sultry look, then grins. "Good thing I kept a few things—besides weapons—from my League days. You have your safety equipment?"

"I do."

"Then let's get this party started."

Len gives her an actual grin in return, pulling a pair of thin black gloves on and letting a small, spherical device roll from his sleeve into his right hand.

"Here we go."


	5. Chapter 5

The black book, to the best of Leonard's information, is kept in a safe in Kay's office on the penultimate floor of the building, just underneath his penthouse.

The first problem: The building's elevators won't go to either of those floors without a fingerprint and retina scan from Kay himself.

Now, lifting a fingerprint is doable, Sara knows. The retina...a little tougher. And while there's probably a high-tech way or two to get around it (or a few brutal low-tech ways that don't fit in at all with the Leonard Snart way of doing things, although she'll make no comment about the League of Assassins), he'd worked out a way to make Kay, himself, essentially work for them.

First, take the building's cameras down, all at once, with a device pilfered from S.T.A.R. Labs.

("What?" He'd asked mock-indignantly, when Sara rolled her eyes at him. "Can you tell me this won't be useful for missions on the Waverider? Ramon would love contributing to the safety of the timeline. He's dealt with Barry too much. He'd have given it to me if I asked."

"Did you ask?"

"What fun would that be?")

Kay, who's glad-handing his slimy way through the ballroom, frowns as a security guard speaks to him urgently, then turns for the nearest elevator, motioning for the guard and another to accompany him.

Once inside, they know, he scans his index finger, then peers into the retina scanner.

And the elevator begins to rise.

Perched on the top of the car, Sara glances over to watch Leonard, who's staring off into the distance and counting to himself silently, lips barely moving. If she didn't know him and how he works, she wouldn't even have seen it.

He catches her watching after a moment and gives her a half-smile, but continues to count.

Eventually, the car shudders to a halt at the penultimate floor and the pair in the elevator shaft move quickly as the doors slide open, shifting to the side of the elevator shaft, where the plans had shown them a small, recessed space, presumably for technical support. They loop their safety straps around a hook in the wall and, watching each other in the darkness, they wait.

* * *

 _Meanwhile, in Central City..._

"So, where's Snart? He usually doesn't miss an opportunity to do the whole 'locks? what are locks?' routine." Taking a sizable slurp from his soda, Cisco plops himself down on his chair, spinning around to face S.T.A.R. Labs' latest member…and guest. "I mean, I know he finds us all boring, 'cause he keeps telling us so repeatedly, but really, I think we'd better be keeping an eye on him."

He's not looking at Barry, so misses his friend nearly choking on his own drink at the words. Ray, who misses it too, frowns a moment in consternation from the work station he'd commandeered as his own.

"I don't know. Haven't seen him in a couple days," he admits, a look of concern crossing his face. "I knew he was bored. Well...I think so. He wasn't even insulting me anymore, and that's just weird."

"He probably went to see Blondie."

All three men turn to look at Mick, who shrugs, leaning back farther in his chair and taking a lengthy pull from his beer. While he might not be part of Team Flash (he laughs when Ray even suggests the notion), he keeps showing up with the other Legend, and even Cisco's long since stopped jumping at his every move.

Especially since he keeps bringing food and booze.

" 'Blondie?' " Barry, recovering, queries, looking at the bigger man. "Do you mean...?"

"Sara?" Ray's perked up. "Really? That's nice. I told him I thought she was lonely." He grins. "I think we should all go visit! Have a reunion!"

That gets a bark of laughter from Mick. "I don't think that's really what he has in mind, Haircut." He shakes his head and sets his empty bottle down, rising to cross to the mini fridge for a new one.

"What do you mean?" Ray looks puzzled. Barry looks like he's just been struck by lightning-again. And Cisco, after a moment, chokes on his soda like Barry did earlier.

"You're saying..."

"I'm saying the Boss's had the hots for Blondie since the day he met her. And not only that, he _likes_ her." Micks nods as Ray makes a squeaking noise. "Not too observant, are you? Now, they're probably just doing the same shit they did before...the eye sex and all that..." Cisco chokes again, having barely caught his breath back, "but that doesn't mean either one of 'em's gonna want _you_ showing up." He eyes Barry, who's now sitting at his desk, his head in his heads. "Somethin' you want to say, Red?"

"Nope." Barry's voice is muffled. "Nope. Just..." He raises his head and stares at Mick a moment. "What would you say an actual...date...would constitute for Leonard Snart?"

Mick pops a new beer and sits back down, putting his feet up. "Don't think the man's ever done anything that normal in his life." He takes a drink. "Prob'ly a heist or something. Why?"

Barry just puts his head back in his hands, while Ray helpfully pounds Cisco on the back.

The good guys, Mick reflects, taking another drink, are weird.

* * *

Not that much time passes while they're tucked in the small space in the elevator shaft, really. Just enough time for Kay to bark a few orders (Leonard, listening intently, picks out what he's listening for), presumably dispatching one of the security team to remain on guard in the office.

It feels longer, though, he thinks, watching Sara watch him in return. They're secure enough—heaven knows he's been in more precarious positions in his life—and they both know the plan. All they have to do at the moment is wait. And watch.

It's not awkward, precisely, the near-silence. But feeling her eyes upon him, he keeps feeling like he should say something.

"You ready?"

Sara's lips curve as she studies him. "For what?"

What does she think he's asking? "The...that."

The elevator, a fairly well-maintained specimen of its kind, starts to move again. But contrary to their expectations, it starts to move _up_.

Sara'd started to lean out just a little at the first sound, and while she'd quickly moved back into the alcove, Leonard can't help but throw an arm out to make sure she's safely inside. His hand catches her elbow and, glancing down at it and then back up at him, she smirks.

But she leaves his hand where it is. And so does he.

"Why...?" he mutters, glancing upward. "The only thing up there is the penthouse."

"Maybe he wanted to get changed?" Sara shrugs. "Shouldn't matter."

"Yeah..."

It's not long before the elevator car begins to move again. The two intruders in the elevator shaft stay motionless while the car moves down past them, continuing toward the ground floor. After a moment, Sara—casting Len one more thoughtful glance—moves carefully downward, secured by her straps, until she's level with the door. After a moment's consideration of the safety panel by its side, she taps a button, then swings herself inside as the door slides open, releasing one end of her straps and then dragging them in after her.

Leonard follows, landing neatly in the hallway and gathering his own safety equipment. They exchange a glance, and head for the door at the end of the hallway.

Leonard picks the lock silently, save for one tiny "click." There's no sound of alarm from the room, so they exchange another look…and then Sara takes a few steps back and, with a deep breath, gets a running start.

She barrels through the door and the guard never knows what hit him.

Leonard, following, nods as he sees her trussing the man up. He takes stock of the room, then crosses to the safe behind the desk, lock picks in hand.

"You got that?" Sara's voice from across the room is teasing.

"Hmmm…it's a good one." He smirks. "But not as good as me."

Sara says something else, but he's focusing now, and nothing else exists but the lock and his tools.

And, after a minute or so, the "click."

"Got it," he says in satisfaction, tucking the picks away. "Ahead of the game."

"Don't you always tell Ray off for saying things like that?" Sara joins him by the safe, crouching down to put a hand on his shoulder.

That warm touch is distracting, but… He's a professional, he reminds himself. "Please. Don't mention Raymond in the middle of a heist. You'll jinx it," he says as he carefully opens the safe door.

For a moment, they're silent.

"What did I tell you?" Leonard says finally. "Jinxed."

The safe is empty.

* * *

Sara, watching Leonard, can pretty much hear him thinking. She stays silent, and after a moment, he glances back up at her.

"He took it upstairs," he says simply. "To the penthouse. He knows someone's after it. He knew as soon as the cameras went down."

"Well, that was the idea, right? So he'd give us a ride up here?"

"Yeah, but this is…" A pause, and she can pretty much see the wheels turning. "It's a trap."

Sara stares at him. "Um, come again, Admiral Ackbar?"

"Not for us." He carefully shuts the door, then rises. "The lousy security company, the timing of the party…he knows someone's coming for it. Not us in particular, because how would he? But someone."

"With one lousy guard?" They both look at the trussed-up and blindfolded man unconscious on the office carpet.

"No," Leonard decides. "That clown was here just in case, but he thinks someone's going for the penthouse first, for some reason. The real trap will be there."

"So do we…?"

Len catches her eyes. "I still want to get it. Do you?"

"Yes." Sara's eyes are determined. "Any thoughts about how to do that?"

"We could scale the shaft, but if we're caught without a recess if the elevator comes back..." He glances back toward the elevator. "Not really."

"Well, I have an idea." Sara takes a few steps over the windows, then looks back at him.

"No."

"Yes." Grinning, she springs the latch. "Come on, Len."

Against his will, he moves closer. "You're kidding me."

"Nope. I've done this plenty of times."

"As part of the scary assassin group."

"As part of the scary assassin group." Sara slides the window open. There's no alarm, presumably because of the fact that it's 20-odd stories above the ground. Moving quickly and gracefully, she climbs up on the wide sill, extending a hand to Leonard. "Come on."

"Um."

"How much time do we have? I know you're keeping track."

"He told Sleeping Beauty over there to check in every 15 minutes. So, just under 11 minutes, plus approximately 45 seconds before the elevator gets here."

"Then we need to move. Come _on_."

He moves.

* * *

Sara, moving outside onto the tiny ledge that hangs out over the city, has somehow secured her safety straps above them. As he tentatively emerges too, she grabs his straps, grins at him, and clips them around her securely before starting to scale.

What can he do? He follows.

The night is still, fortunately, and the rough stonework on the building makes the climb relatively simple. Sara squirrels her way up the level easily, then turns offer him a hand up as he carefully picks his way toward her.

Leonard allows her to haul him over the edge, then looks behind him with an expression of distaste. The city looks beautiful from up here, the usual music of sirens and traffic rising from below, but if he never had to be do that again, he'd be OK with it.

Then he looks back at Sara.

She's grinning at him, her eyes shining. Her hair is coming out of its nest of braids, and there are a few tendrils around her face. She's completely unfazed by the climb; she seems energized, in fact, bouncing on her toes and watching him, looking completely at ease.

He's seen her in multiple ways, in multiple settings, in white leather, in jeans and a T-shirt, in a slinky dress. But, he decides, she's never looked quite as gorgeous as she does at that moment. It's beyond physical; it's her soul shining through, still a thing of beauty despite everything she's gone through, sparkling with the love of a challenge.

He considers, just for a second, saying so. But this probably isn't the time for confessions.

"We don't know what he's left up here," he says quietly, moving closer. "Hell, he could be in there himself, waiting. There's something we're still missing here, and I don't like that at all."

"The cameras are still off, right?" Sara settles a little, but moves closer herself, standing so near he could put his arms around her if he wanted. And that's also not a thought he should be having right now.

He checks the device. "Yep. Unless he has someone who's smarter than Ramon, which I doubt—do _not_ tell him I said that—they'll be down for the count until I shut this off." He glances across the broad span of space that borders the penthouse, the well-tended greenery, the small gem of a pool, its waters reflecting the lights of the city and the moon overhead, the chairs and lounges padded in rich fabrics. "There could be alarms all over here. I'm a little surprised we haven't already set something off."

"I've done my share of breaking and entering." For a moment, a something darker than usual hovers in Sara's eyes. "People almost never think of the roofs like this; they count on the height to keep them safe. Now, getting inside, that's different."

"Don't I know it." They share a grin, then start carefully for the penthouse itself.

There's a motion detector in the pool—and Sara makes a crack about going for a dip, which doesn't do his overactive imagination any good—but otherwise she's right: Kay relies on the height to protect his patio.

Leonard frowns, but then they're at a wide set of double doors that lead out onto the roof, and it's show time again.

It's a keypad, which makes him frown…but it gives to the third tactic he tries, the system default for most doors of its type. Which makes him frown more.

Still, no point looking a gift horse in the mouth. He steps inside quickly, motioning Sara to follow, listening for the presence of someone else or the elevator.

He hears neither. Sara, moving quickly into the other rooms, whispers "clear" a few moments later.

But Leonard doesn't like this. Not at all.

"Hmm. If I were a billionaire asshole," Sara says quietly as she rejoins him, "where would I hide it?"

Len briefly considers suggesting she ask her ex, but dismisses the idea. "He wasn't up here long." He walks into a room that seems to be a sort of study, but shakes his head. "Desk is too obvious, but given that something's wrong here anyway…"

There's nothing in the desk, even though he tests for hidden compartments. And time is ticking away

He turns to eye the bedroom behind them.

"You don't think…?" Sara whispers, amusement in her tone.

"I do think."

Yup. Right in the bedstand drawer, right next to any number of…implements…that make Sara snicker. The cover of the so-called black book (which really is a black book, actually) is worn and well-used. The pages, when he flips through it, are soft, well-thumbed, and filled with small, precise writing: Names and dates and the details of hundreds of crimes and indiscretions and secrets.

It's not a decoy being left to steer thieves away from the real deal, which he'd partly expected. That makes him frown all the more.

Still, he tucks the book into a pocket on the suit, catching Sara's eye. She nods.

"Elevator shaft?" she asks quietly, citing their original plan.

"No. If he immediately heads up here instead of checking the office, we're screwed." He rolls his eyes at her smile. "Yeah, we're going to have to take your route. Don't gloat."

They leave the penthouse, pausing just outside despite the time constraints. Leonard can't hide the growing feeling of "Alexa" that's nagging at him. He's pretty sure Sara feels the same, given how she's frowning.

"He did this on purpose," he says. "It was far too easy. He wants someone to take it. Why would he want someone to have this information?"

Sara looks thoughtful...and then stills.

"Len," she says, staring at him. "Who would he be trying to lure with that book? Who's known for going after Star City's high and mighty? Who's known for lurking around rooftops? Who…"

And that's when an arrow thunks into the walls right between them.

Leonard stares at it for one long moment, for once caught completely off guard. Sara, however, is not. She grabs his arm and, tugging at it, makes for the edge of the roof. He follows, because really, what else is he going to do?

"He doesn't know who we are," she tells him breathlessly as they run, "not from that distance. That was a warning. Sort of 'Don't make me come over there.' "

"A _warning_?"

"Trust me, if he'd wanted to hit you...he'd have hit you!"

They get to the edge. Sara turns to him and he catches just a glimpse of the look on her face before she steps close, slings one of her safety straps around him, snapping a carabiner closed, then turns back to the edge—and jumps. Taking him with her.

Len's pretty sure he yells some sort of profanity, but it's snatched away by the wind. Sara almost immediately checks their downward progress by bracing her feet against the building, but the straps—which she'd somehow looped around an outcrop-pull at them anyway and for a moment, he can't breathe.

Sara carefully maneuvers them into a recess and they find some footing, pressed up again the building and each other. Len, who's on the inside of the ledge, puts his arms around her. For safety reasons, of course.

After a second, he whispers, "Where..."

Sara frowns, and he realizes she's calculating trajectory in her head. "The big, dark building to the north," she whispers after a second. "The one owned by Wayne Enterprises. He must have heard something, about Kay's security and something going down."

 _"The Arrow...can't go after everyone,"_ Felicity Smoak whispers in his memory. He should have known better. Apparently Smoak hadn't told her...whatever he was at the moment...about her meeting with a thief-and he hadn't told her his plans for the evening.

"You think he's after it?"

"Might be." Sara shakes her head. "Might just be surveillance at the moment." She peers up at him. "Kay set a trap for the Green Arrow."

"More than that. He set a trap for the mayor."

Sara stares at him. "Do you think he knows?"

Leonard considers for a moment. "No. I think he wants to be able to claim that the Green Arrow took it. We messed with that by screwing with the cameras, but I'm sure he'll work around it."

Sara catches his drift. "Kay wants to start dabbling in politics. We both heard that earlier. He wanted Ollie to get that book...and start using it. And then he'd know..."

"He might be able to figure out who the Green Arrow is. And even if he can't, he can target Oliver Queen for not bringing in that hooded menace to society. _And_ he has the plausible deniability that comes with no longer holding the actual book." Leonard shakes his head. "Interesting plan...but too many holes. Sloppy."

"High risk, high reward," Sara retorts. "We have to warn him."

He stares at her incredulously, as a breeze tugs at her hair and causes him to try to pull her back in the recess a little more. "Queen? _Now_?"

"No. I think he's probably realized someone beat him to the punch." Her lips curve. " That was just a warning shot. Give it a few minutes, he'll go away. We're safe here for now. I don't particularly want to get hit by an arrow again; it hurts."

"Not funny, Sara!"

That just gets a snort from her. And then a moment later, another. And as her shoulders start to shake, Leonard, looking down at her in disbelief, realizes that she's laughing.

"Is this _really_ the time?"

"Oh, Len." Sara halts her bout of hilarity just enough to grin at him. "Is it _ever_ the time? Really? For me? For you?"

There's a vigilante known for putting pointy objects through people watching not far above them, and they're tucked against the side of a tall building hundreds of feet over the city, with only a few safety lines in place.

She's looking up at him, smiling, and there's only one thing he can think of to do.

 _Leonard Snart_ , he thinks briefly, _you're in_ so _much trouble_. And then he ducks his head and kisses her.

As stolen kisses go, the setting is memorable, but then, so is the kiss. Sara immediately stops laughing and makes a sort of purring noise, tightening her already considerable grip on him and pressing closer. There hadn't exactly been much space before, but now she's pretty much molded to him, and his body is reacting completely predictably.

Which Sara, hooking a leg around him, seems to appreciate, really.

She's moved one hand to the back of his head, and she's holding him in place as her nails scratch lightly across his scalp. With a sigh, he tilts his head a little and deepens the kiss, because if he's going to be doing _this_ here, now, he's damn well going to be doing it right.

After a few long, heated minutes, Sara abruptly pulls back, panting a little, and shakes her head with a laugh. Len lets her go, blinking at the reality of their location and the situation sets back in.

"I think he's gone," she whispers. "We should get out of here."

"What? Who?" Oh, right, he remembers, as Sara snorts. The Green Arrow. "Right. Ah..."

It takes a few minutes to get their safety lines sorted out, but Sara gets them safely back down to the correct window without incident. The guard is awake now and working at his well-tied hands, unsuccessfully; Sara waves cheerfully to him—despite his blindfold—as they rush past, jimmying the elevator doors to get out and into their hidey hole even as they see the elevator rising from below.

Given that his careful count of time has long since been blown out of his head, he's just glad that everyone in the building hasn't long since gone home.

They have a little while to wait, tucked into their nook as the car first stops at the penultimate floor and then rises to the top again. Leonard keeps his distance, this time, as much as he can, but they're still watching each other, and enough of Sara's thoughts are showing blatantly on her face that it's... difficult.

He keeps his head in the game enough to successfully make the transfer over to the elevator as it moves downward, but only just.

Once the elevator's safety down on the ground floor and empty again, they emerge into the car itself, then out the service doors in the back, hurrying down the hall to the storage room, where... still carefully not watching each other...they change back into their fancy party clothes.

As they emerge, Sara tucking the folded-down packet of her jumpsuit into her purse, she turns to look at him...and smiles.

It's a different sort of smile than it was when this evening started.

"Come on, crook," she whispers in his ear, going up on her toes. "Let's go celebrate."


	6. Chapter 6

Sara precedes him through the door of the suite, still by all appearances on an adrenaline high, and by the time he's followed her into the main room, she's on the room phone, apparently ordering something from room service. Nonplussed but amused, Leonard ducks into the bathroom before returning, finding Sara tapping her toe in impatience.

"Can I see it?" She rolls her eyes at his slow smile. "The book, jackass."

Studying it, they both recognize names, although he's pretty sure Sara recognizes more than he does. She makes noises of anger at some, disappointment at others, and finally shakes her head, handing it back to him.

"Kay's going to find that arrow in his wall and think his plan worked," Len observes as he tucks the book into a hidden compartment in his bag.

"Mmhm." Sara eyes him. "Which is why we do need to warn Oliver. I mean, it'll be pretty funny if your friends start using that info and Kay points a finger at Ollie...but only if Ollie is prepared."

He'd been thinking about this quite a bit, really, on the way back.

Queen clearly hadn't known going in that Smoak had given someone else a copy of her file on Kay. And Smoak clearly hadn't known Queen was going to visit the environs of the Kay building that evening. But eventually, those two crazy kids were going to actually talk and...

"About that..."

There's a knock at the door then, though, and Len sighs while Sara goes to answer it. She returns with a bottle of champagne and two glasses, the former of which she hands to him with a flourish.

Well, given that this has probably been charged to his room, he might as well. He accepts with a smirk, then returns to the bathroom for a towel, wrapping the bottle and popping the cork expertly before pouring them both a glass.

Sara holds her up before clinking it against his and taking a sip. "To the best laid plans, etc., etc.," she quips. "And getting the goods anyway."

"Amen." They salute each other and drink. Sara sighs in what seems to be contentment, then kicks off her heels and sits down in the desk chair, spinning around once before sipping again and eyeing him.

"That was fun," she comments. "And these friends of yours…they can make good use of that information? Without hurting the people who don't deserve it?"

"It's sort of their specialty." He makes a mental note to call Lisa, ask her to have Parker contact him. At a guess, she and her people will know about Kay's black book being at large even before that. "You need to meet them one of these days. You'd like them."

"Sounds like."

He leans against the wall and drinks his champagne and watches her, and she leans back in the chair and drinks her champagne and watches him, and finally, Len sighs again.

"I do have a confession to make," he says, setting his glass down.

Sara watches him over the top of her glass and sips, saying nothing.

"They're didn't precisely…hire me to get the book," he says, straightening from his slouch and looking out the window over her head. "They didn't know I was going after it. Actually… _I_ didn't know I was going after it…" He looks down at Sara again. She's watching him intently in return. "…not before I met you at the bar."

Sara takes a drink, then sits the glass down, rising to her feet and pacing over before rising on her toes and looking him in the eyes.

Then she smiles. "I know."

"I...what?" Leonard, absorbed in what he'd been planning to say, blinks as his plan goes off the track. Again.

It's been a day for that.

"Well. OK, I didn't _know_ until just now, but I'd had a pretty good idea since we met at the waterfront." Sara studies him with a smirk. "For one thing, you never once mentioned the take, or how we'd split it. Even if you actually had some altruistic motives in play here, _that_ is totally unlike you."

Len closes his eyes briefly. She's right. "And?"

"Leonard. You didn't have a plan—not at first. And you _always_ have a plan."

* * *

Leonard looks perfectly blank, standing there in that still spotless tux, eyes closed. He looks…mortified, really, Sara decides. That's not precisely what she's going for here, but a little off balance—yes, she can work with that.

"I also knew Felicity's notes when I read them," she points out, walking back to the desk and reclaiming her champagne. "There are all sorts of little quirks in the writing, organization, turns of phrase…well, just trust me, they're there." She eyes him again. "Tell me, how did _that_ happen?"

There are a few beats before Leonard opens his eyes again and gives her a wary look. "I asked Barry," he says finally. "For someone who had it coming. He said he had a contact in Star. I didn't know it would be her, not at first."

"She must have loved that."

A sardonic chuckle. "Not really."

"But she gave you the notes anyway. Why?"

Leonard shrugs. "I asked nicely? Sara..." he sighs, "can we dispense with the third degree? It was...false pretenses. I apologize for that." He smirks, as if he's trying to reclaim their usual bantering dynamic. "And as you know, I rarely apologize."

Sara's not quite ready to let him off the hook, but not quite in the way he seems to expect. She takes a long drink, maintaining the eye contact until he's fidgeting a little, then puts the empty glass down, turning to walk back over to him. She stops just inside his usual bubble of personal space, noting smugly that he doesn't flinch or step back the way he once would have, all those months ago when they first took off together on a time-traveling ship, a crook and an assassin off to save the world.

"Why?" she asks simply, then follows up when he's visibly still trying to decide how to respond. "If you came all this way just to see me, why wouldn't you just tell me?"

Leonard's eyes flick to hers, then away, then back. This time, he licks his lips and maintains the eye contact, and Sara leans a little closer in response.

"That's not really how I operate, Sara," he says, and his voice is satisfyingly rough. "I don't...I haven't..." He takes a deeper breath. "You never brought it up again. Me and you. And I didn't want to...overstep. Thought I should take it slow."

Sara moves an infinitesimal bit closer. "So you asked me to help you rob something."

"So I asked you to help me rob something." There's a spark of humor in his eyes as he looks down at her. "In my defense, you _did_ enjoy it."

"True." But she's still not letting him off the hook. "I thought I put the ball pretty firmly in your court. With the whole 'hell of a thief' thing."

"Ah. So that _was_ a challenge." Leonard's eyes are darker, they're definitely darker, and has he moved closer too? Yes, she definitely thinks so. "I think," he says, still in that rough voice, "that I've proved I _am_ one hell of a thief."

"Are you talking about the heist, or the kiss?" Now Sara licks her own lips, remembering the night breeze around them, the adrenaline in her veins, the feelings of their bodies pressed together in the scant shelter of the building. They're not so much farther away from each other right now, not really.

"Yes." He smirks at her. Ass.

"That was a pretty good kiss," she admits, smirking back at him.

"It was." And now he's finally lifted his hands to settle them at her waist, finally allowing the contact she's been waiting for, even though she'd left the first move up to him.

"I'd sort of like to try it again," she whispers, lifting her own hands and arms to move them slowly around his neck, both of them shuddering a little as skin meets skin.

"I...could be persuaded."

The first kiss had been a thing of adrenaline and impulse. Both of them had known it wasn't going to last, given where they were and the situation in which they'd put themselves. They'd just been enjoying it while it lasted.

This one...well.

Sure, it starts out slower. Their lips just brush, at first, and she feels more than hears his sigh, wonders if he's going to back off before things really even heat up.

But when Leonard Snart commits...he _commits_.

Before she can wonder for more than a moment, he's moved one hand to the small of her back, pressing her closer, taking over the kiss in a way that's both gentle and firmly implacable. It's kind of hot, really, and Sara throws herself into it, too, grabbing two fistfuls of his tuxedo jacket and opening her mouth underneath his, daring him to take advantage of it.

Moving his other hand up to cradle her jaw, he does.

Yes, this kiss...this kiss, Sara decides, after their lips finally part some time later, both of them breathing raggedly, is going places.

"I'm going to stay here tonight," she whispers to him, fingers wandering down to the first button of his shirt, which she slowly maneuvers through the buttonhole. "And I don't want to hear anything else about taking this slow, right?"

"You're going to stay here tonight," he whispers back, pulling her up just a little so their bodies fit together and his lips can brush her jawbone in a very tantalizing manner. "And that depends what you mean by _this_."

She's too busy to respond.

* * *

When their phones ring, pretty much in unison, far too early the next morning, they're both too soundly asleep to respond at first.

At the second set of rings, Leonard leans over to knock his into the bedside table's drawer, which he promptly slams closed. Sara just pulls a pillow over her head until it stops and then burrows into him as he moves back toward her, actions that might have led to another round of other activities...

Until the phones ring again.

With a muttered curse, Sara sits up and grabs hers, checking the ID before answering in a way that might best be described as "threatening."

"Ray," she hisses, "this had better be good."

Leonard, stretching, eyes her appreciatively as she frowns, then leans back into the pillows, trying to decide if distracting her would be worth it...or lead to all manner of payback.

Of course, the payback might be fun...

"When? OK, did you ask him what the hell the delay was?" She mouths "Waverider" to Leonard, who raises an eyebrow. "Uh huh...oh, soon as possible, really?"

They both roll their eyes, then Sara smirks a little at something Ray says. She pointedly eyes Len, nodding a little in equal appreciation at the view.

"Yeah, I know. He's here. Tell Mick to stop calling." Her lips twitch as she watches Leonard groan at the realization that there's no way they can keep...this...quiet. "Yes, _here_ here. As in, in bed. Next to me. Laughing at you. Your point?"

Whatever the response, she bites back a laugh, amusement dancing in her eyes, then shrugs.

"Yeah, well, tell Rip we'll be there when we get there. We have to take care of a few things first." She watches as Len retrieves his now-silent phone from the drawer. "No, I'm not sure when. A little waiting won't hurt him. We'll be in touch."

She pauses another moment, then grins, a particularly impish grin that Len, watching, decides he'd like to see every day for...

For the foreseeable future-wherever it might take them.

Sara glances at him, smiling.

"Oh, and Ray? Tell Barry the heist succeeded."

* * *

Thanks for reading! This was a fun one to write, although the heist was a PITA to work out. Many thanks to LarielRomeniel for the beta and helping with that.

I wrote a follow-up to this that is pretty much all text between Felicity and Sara (and then Barry and Leonard). I'll post that tomorrow.


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